


The Smelting Furnace

by farad



Series: Forging Copper [3]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 20:45:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forging Copper 3 - It's never as simple as it should be</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Smelting Furnace

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Huntersglenn and Dail for the concept betas - all mistakes my own, and feel free to point them out so I can chance them!!

 

_Definition of **smelt**_

###  _verb_

__[with object]_ _ _(often as noun_ **_smelting_ ** _)_

  * _extract (metal) from its ore by a process involving heating and melting:_

  * __tin smelting -__ _extract a metal from (ore) by smelting_

– from Oxford Dictionaries.com




 

 

 

"How bad?"

 

Chris pressed the cloth tighter against his chest, wishing the blood would stop. It hurt like a bitch, but he was familiar with gunshot wounds. He'd had worse than this, like that hole in his chest the bitch Ella Gaines' men had put there several years ago. Problem with this one was that it wouldn't stop bleeding.

 

"Chris?" Vin's voice was sharp, drawing his attention.

 

"I'll live," he said, looking out the window of the back of the shack. When he'd rebuilt it after the Nichols boys and their shooting spree, he'd debated moving it closer to the big tree but Vin had talked him out of it, warning against limbs falling and hurting the roof. At one point, he'd even suggested, chuckling, that someone could use the tree to climb up and attack the house through the roof.

 

Now, he was glad he'd listened to Vin and moved it closer to the corral and in the clear. One of the bastards was out there now, hiding behind the damned tree. Another one was at the corner of the barn.

 

A third one was dead on the ground between them, or Chris assumed he was. He hadn't pulled the shot and he'd lined up square on the bastard's shiny metal button.

 

"How bad?" Vin asked. He was looking out the front, using Chris' rifle to hold off three of his own. They were farther away, behind the low rise at the top of the small hill in front of the place.

 

"Not bad enough for you to worry about," Chris said sharply, his attention on movement in the corner of his eye. Without a conscious thought, he fired his pistol in that direction even as he turned to look. The man behind the tree jerked back, out of sight.

 

He drew a deep breath and his hand shook with the effort of holding the gun. He was losing too much blood. Dammit.

 

Behind him, Vin shot twice, fast. As the echo died away, Chris heard a loud groan from outside then someone curse.

 

"One less," he said.

 

"Not dead," Vin countered tersely. He shot again, and Chris imagined that one of the other men behind the ridge had been coming to help the downed man. "I don't like this, Chris – we're running out of bullets. They ain't gotta shoot – hell, if they've got a stick of dynamite - "

 

"They need to be able to identify you," Chris cut him off. "If they blow us up – blow you up - " He drew a breath, feeling dizzy at the idea of losing Vin. The only thing that made it tolerable was the idea that it'd be both of them at the same time.

 

"I ain't gonna let them do that," Vin said, his voice hard. "Think I should give myself up – hell, if you're as good as you keep telling me, you can follow us to Texas, get them before they get anywhere near Tascosa. 'Sides, it won't matter – we've got the papers, charges have been dropped - "

 

"We've shot three of 'em," Chris said. "You think they'll let you walk out the door alive?"

 

"Don't matter," Vin answered. "Long as they leave you alone."

 

"Won't happen," Chris said, knowing it. He knew Vin did, too.

 

Things were still outside, still and quiet. He wondered if he were losing his sense of things, his hearing no longer working quite right. He pressed one hand against the wound, pain shooting off in his head, hard and deep enough to make his stomach roil and his eyes water, but his ears still heard nothing. Not at first.

 

But after a while that seemed like forever, he heard the steady stride of a horse trotting up the way. On the road, where the dirt was packed hard and dry from weeks without rain. Not a trot but a fast walk. Someone coming quick enough to have heard the gunshots.

 

And someone stupid enough to ignore what they meant.

 

Chris took in a breath, trying to steady his hand. Nothing outside his window was moving.

 

He wondered what sort of idiot was riding into a gunfight – another one of the bounty hunters who wanted Vin? A look out or a back-up? One of the people who lived in the area – Lord, someone like Casey or Mrs. Potter, someone who had no idea what they were riding into?

 

Someone like JD who thought he was coming to save Chris?

 

"Fuck," Vin snarled as the sound of the incoming horse grew louder.

 

Chris glanced over his shoulder, trying to see what Vin was seeing. The window – all the windows – were gone, shattered in the first exchange of gunfire. The angle was wrong, though, and he couldn't see anything much but the sky and the green grass past Vin's head.

 

"What – " he started, but he stopped as the words, on their soft, honey-thick accent, carried clearly from outside.

 

"Might I be of some assistance? I do know the gentlemen within – might I offer myself as a negotiator?"

 

Chris closed his eyes for a few seconds, but just a few, long enough to wonder what in the hell Ezra thought he was doing.

 

*&*&*&*&*

 

Ezra smiled, ignoring the two guns pointed at him. He'd been in the trees, waiting to find a moment alone with Chris, when he'd spied the six men scattering round Chris' small house. He hadn't needed to hear what was going on to understand what was happening: they had come for Vin, bounty hunters looking to take back the fugitive. Chris had been in the cabin, Vin in the barn.

 

When Chris had tried to explain to the two who had called out to the house that Vin was no longer wanted, the men hadn't believed him. Vin had come from the barn and the guns had come out.

 

Chris had been hit, Vin had gotten him inside and now they were in a stand-off.

 

Damn Vin Tanner. Why had he stopped in this town so long ago? Why hadn't he moved on, gone on his merry way to whatever future he could have made for himself?

 

It was a curse Ezra had muttered often over the past year and a half, especially in the past year, since Vin had found out about Chris and Ezra.

 

It was a useless curse now, with Vin and Chris in the house in God knew what shape and the men outside the house with the tactical advantage. It was up to Ezra to balance the odds.

 

"Who the hell are you?" one of the men – the one with the longer pistol and better-looking suit – demanded.

 

"Ezra P. Standish," Ezra said without a thought. "At your service."

 

"And what the hell does that mean?" asked the second one who was shorter than the first, though in most other ways a shabbier copy. "What kind of service can you be – and why the hell would we care?"

 

"You might care," Ezra said with a smile, "because the man who owns that abode is the closest thing to a sheriff in this area, and because there are five other men who ride with the two of them, who are probably on their way here now. It sounds as of there's a war going on here – and sound does carry rather far in these hills."

 

"We heard about these men," the taller man, the one who Ezra had already identified as the leader, said. He studied Ezra closely, his small eyes becoming even smaller. "Thought you were one of them – there's a gambler in that group, one who dresses fancy." He tilted his chin, indicating Ezra's purple jacket and purple and gold vest.

 

Ezra smiled, appreciating the man's shrewdness. They hadn't come in here cold, then, they'd taken some time to find out a few things. So, no out and out lies. Just enough of the truth to keep it plausible. "Which is part of why I can, perhaps, accomplish what you cannot. I can get in there and get Tanner out."

 

Both men stared at him until finally, the leader said, "Why would you? You're one of them."

 

Ezra smiled his most charming. "Oh, I do pretend to be," he said. "But in truth, I am here for the same thing you are, the pay-off. I haven't been able to find anyone to help me, though, and I can't take on the other six by myself." He spread his arms wide, as if to encompass both men and their pointing guns.

 

"A what?" said the not-leader.

 

"Why?" said the leader.

 

Ezra looked at them both, considering how best to answer this. "I can get him out. But I'm not going to do it unless I have a reason to do so. In about - " he looked to the hills, then up at the sun, as if putting together different elements to make a prediction. "In about ten minutes, friends of theirs – the other four men and a few local supporters – will be here to aid them, effectively trapping you in a vise. There is also an Army unit coming through in the near future, one of those hunting renegades and testing those new portable cannons. Tanner is familiar with some of the men in that unit. I understand he scouted for them at one time, and they will not take kindly to his capture. I've been trying for a year to come up with a way to get Tanner away from the others and out of town, and this is a golden opportunity. I can arrange it so that I will be going with him – with you – to make certain that he gets there alive for a trial."

 

"So them papers they got ain't no good?" The second broke in, turning to look at the leader. "Told you," he said smugly before Ezra answered. "Ain't no court gonna give you papers like that. That was a plumb lie – though you gotta give 'em credit for thinking of it."

 

Ezra let the answer hang, as if it were the correct one. These guys had been around town long enough to know that Vin did have papers from the Oldham County Court, exonerating him of the charges.

 

"As I was saying," he went on instead, "I do have their trust. If I negotiate and promise to go with you to Tascosa, to make certain that our captive arrives alive, then we can end this stand-off. And would it not be easier to take him along alive than dead? All I ask is my part of the $500."

 

The leader tilted his head, thinking. Ezra watched the corners of his eyes, knowing what he was thinking by the way the wrinkles creased and uncreased, the way the man's pupils drifted to one side or the other. Weighing the possibilities. Calculating the best way to handle this situation.

 

Ezra looked past him, toward the hills between them and the town. It wouldn't be long.

 

The leader shifted a little, a slight tightening of his body, and Ezra knew he'd decided. He looked at the man, knew his decision in all its complexities – it was the one he had expected.

 

"You can get in there and get Tanner out?" the man asked.

 

Ezra smiled. "What have you got to lose?" he asked spreading his arms wide.

 

"You get him out and you can ride with us to Texas. Just get him out of there."

 

Ezra nodded, holding out a hand to shake on the deal. The other man looked at it, then at him, then with a sigh, he shook. His hand was damp and the contact was quick, but long enough to confirm what Ezra already knew: the bastard was lying.

 

Well, no matter, Ezra hadn't counted on it anyway. Even if he had been sincere, his men would not have allowed him to go through with it.

 

"Gimme your gun," the leader said, still holding out his hand. "Ain't letting you take more bullets in there."

 

"Of course," Ezra agreed, unbuckling his gunbelt. "Would you care to search me as well?" He folded the leather of the belt carefully and balanced the holstered gun on top of it as he held it out. "Please take care of this – the design work is intricate and I'd hate for it to get scratched." As the other man took it, he held up his arms and spread them, offering to let himself be searched. The posture opened up his coat so that the lining was as visible as the line of his body. As he'd hoped, the leader eyed him closely but didn't step up to touch.

 

"Go on, then," the man said. "Get him out of there so we can be on our way."

 

Ezra nodded, turned toward the cabin and called out, "It's me, Ezra! Don't shoot! The men out here want to negotiate!" He took a few steps forward, then he jumped as dirt erupted a foot in front of him, the sound of Chris' rifle echoing.

 

"What the hell are you playing at, Ezra?" Chris' called out, his voice hard and angry. But under it, Ezra heard something else, something he didn't like. Pain.

 

"No games," he answered as clearly as he could. "I want to talk to you, and these gentlemen have agreed to let me pass through. To bring you an offer."

 

There was silence from the cabin for a time and Ezra tried not to look over his shoulder. They didn't have a lot of time, not if his plan was going to work.

 

"Mr. Larabee?" he called, hoping Chris would understand the urgency.

 

From inside he heard a low growl that sounded like, "Come on!" He hoped that was what was said.

 

Drawing a deep breath that was less for show than for courage, he walked down the incline and toward the house, trying not to think about how good a shot Vin was, and all the reasons Vin Tanner might have to want to put a hole in Ezra's head, one to match the one he'd already made in his heart.

 

&*&*&*&*&*

 

"What the hell are you playing at?" Chris didn't turn from the window, expecting that their attackers would take advantage of their distraction to attack.

 

"How badly are you - " Ezra started.

 

"Ezra!" Chris snapped, cutting him off. "We ain't got time for this."

 

"No," Ezra agreed with a sigh, "we don't."

 

Chris heard the slide of cloth against cloth, suspected Ezra was taking off his jacket. How like him, to get comfortable when they had more pressing matters to deal with.

 

"What the - " Vin said, his voice sharp enough to make Chris turn instinctively. "How the hell did you get those in here?"

 

Ezra was holding two sticks of dynamite in one hand, and a slingshot in the other.

 

"No," Chris said, looking around his shack. There were a couple of holes in the walls, but only a couple. He had to replace the windows, but when he'd rebuilt after the Nichols brothers had shot up the place, he'd invested in thicker walls, in hopes of preventing what had happened then. For the most part, it had worked.

 

He'd be damned if Ezra blew up his cabin – their cabin. Vin lived here too.

 

"No?" Ezra said, his fine eyebrows rising into his hairline. "You've been trying to shoot them out for – what, an hour or more now?"

 

"You been watching?" Vin asked, his voice hard. "You couldn't ride for help or were you hoping that if you waited, they'd get rid of me?"

 

Chris' breath caught, but this time, it wasn't the wound so much as the hard anger in Vin's voice coupled with the knowledge that it was his fault. Vin tolerated Chris' . . . situation with Ezra, his need for Ezra and the things Ezra could give him that Vin couldn't. But there was little trust between the two of them, less now that they thought they were competing for him.

 

The very idea of it made Chris' head ache, the idea that he was in this strange pair of relationships. He didn't doubt his love for Vin or his need for him. But he also needed Ezra. He wasn't sure he loved him, but there was something about Ezra that compelled him in a way that Vin simply didn't.

 

Vin accepted it, though he didn't like it.

 

Ezra . . . Ezra. Ezra didn't like it either, but Chris still couldn't figure out what part of it bothered Ezra. Worse, he wasn't sure Ezra could either, just that it did.

 

And here they were, in the middle of a Mexican Standoff, with Vin and Ezra truly distrusting each other.

 

"Getting help was not an option," Ezra said shortly. "They won't wait for you to pick them off one at a time. They will rush the house, kill you both, then cart Vin back to Texas, no matter what you say or even what you show them in the way of court papers. They don't believe they are real."

 

"Yeah, we figured that out," Vin snarled, looking back out the window. "So what's your brilliant plan? Talk 'em out of it? Or did you come in here to get me yourself, get part of the cut?"

 

Ezra took a deep breath and Chris turned to look at him. "That is the deal I negotiated with them," Ezra said flatly, "though it is not the plan."

 

"No, it sure as hell ain't," Chris agreed. "What is the plan, other than blowing my cabin up?"

 

Ezra smiled then, and while Chris' stomach roiled, his curiosity was piqued. Ezra could come up with some good ideas, from time to time.

 

"In a matter of a very few minutes, there are going to be two explosions out there. I had four sticks of dynamite, two of which are placed in the ground as close as I could to our current location – not too close as I couldn't get them placed without being seen. I set very long fuses on them, but it's getting close to time now for them to go off - "

 

"If the flame didn't go out," Vin cut in grimly, but there was less hostility in his voice now.

 

"If the flame didn't go out," Ezra agreed. "When the first one goes off, I will propel these two toward the two men out front. That should be enough to make them think that help is within range. I mentioned an army unit with one of those small mobile cannons - "

 

"Indian killers," Vin said.

 

"Whatever," Ezra said. "They will think that this unit is coming for them and hopefully they will scatter."

 

"Or get killed," Chris said, though not with any real concern. The bastards had shot him and he had no doubt that if Vin walked out that door, even surrendering to them, they'd kill him to punish him for their two men who had already been killed.

 

"That would be easiest, yes," Ezra agreed. "But for now, the best thing would be to get them to leave us be, until we can get Vin safe and no longer a target. We run them away, long enough to get back to town."

 

"All of us," Chris said grimly, looking once more out the back window.

 

"Of course," Ezra agreed. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a box of Lucifers. "Shall I?" he asked, holding out the dynamite and the slingshot for one of them to hold.

 

Vin looked to Chris who looked to him. After a second, Chris nodded, Vin frowned, but he let Ezra put the dynamite and slingshot into one of his hands, the one not aiming the gun out the window.

 

Ezra swiped the match tip over the strike bar on the box and the flame came to life. He held it for a few seconds while he pulled out his pocket watch and checked it. "Not long, should be about now."

 

Chris drew in a breath, keeping a close eye on the back window as he waited. He tensed instinctively when he heard the hiss of the flame catching on the wick of the dynamite stick. He knew dynamite – not as well as Buck and Ezra, both of whom had worked with it in the war – but he knew it well enough to know how dangerous it was.

 

As if on cue, there was a sudden explosion, and for one heart-stopping instant, Chris was sure he was dead, that they were all dead. As the floor shook, though, he knew he wasn't and that the explosion had come from outside somewhere.

 

He caught his breath in time for a second one, this one shaking the walls and ratting the empty window frames. Over the roar of it, he could hear voices outside, men yelling at each other and cursing.

 

"Careful," Vin snapped and Chris glanced over in time to see Ezra drawing back the rubber on the slingshot, the stick of dynamite in one hand. He aimed it for what seemed an eternity, the flame sizzling as it climbed up the wick, then he let it go. It flew out the window, the flame climbing up the wick faster than the stick was moving.

 

Chris held his breath and started to close his eyes but caught himself. He turned back to the window in time to see one of the men in the back try to make a move. He shot low, at the ground near the man, and the man jumped back behind the shelter of his tree, firing back.

 

There were yells from outside, loud enough to let Chris know that the dynamite had landed near the men in front, though it hadn't gone off yet.

 

He waited, tension coiled in his belly and his ribs aching. Blood still pooled in his shirt and pants but it had slowed, or at least it seemed to have. The dizziness was gone for the moment, though. In fact, his eyesight seemed to be more acute, colors brighter, images sharper, peripheral vision more sensitive.

 

His hearing, too. He could swear that he heard the pop and hiss of the fuse outside, the heartbeats of the men out there as they swore to each other, the sound of their boot heels as they scrambled in the dirt, trying to run away.

 

He was listening so hard for the dynamite to go off that he thought he could hear the air move around him, the low thrum of the dirt settling from the last two explosions, the hitch of air catching in Vin's lungs as he steadied himself for another shot.

 

"Think the fuse went out," Vin said, his voice loud in the quiet, as if he were yelling.

 

Chris winced then hunched his shoulders as Ezra answered, his voice seeming even louder. "Patience, my good man, you must learn to control yourself."

 

There was a low rumble that Chris knew too well, Vin's anger coming to a boil -

 

The explosion was close, shaking the entire cabin. The coffee pot rattled on the wood stove, coffee sloshing out the spout, and a knife fell off the table, clattering as it bounced along the floor. Dirt rained against the roof, the sound varying from a soft swish to the thuds of hard-packed dirt balls.

 

Then Chris heard the unmistakeable sound of another match flaring to life and Vin said, "You really think - "

 

Chris turned to see Ezra put the match to the second wick, the flame catching easily. Then he settled it in the pocket of the slingshot and aimed in one smooth motion.

 

The dynamite stick went through the window with the same grace as the first one, and a few seconds later, there was a second explosion and dirt storm.

 

Out the back window, Chris saw the two men running away. He encouraged them on by firing several shots into the ground, hoping he wasn't wasting bullets he would need later. Behind him, he heard Vin doing the same – firing, anyway. Vin might actually try to hit someone.

 

As the roar of the explosion died and the echo of the gunshots faded, Chris heard the sound of horses galloping and men calling to each other. He stared out the window for a time, afraid to let down his guard.

 

Eventually, as the silence grew too loud, Ezra said, "I believe we might be safe for the moment. And I suggest that we leave here before they think about what happened and decide to return. It would be best to get Mr. Tanner back to town where we can best protect him - "

 

"You sure we ain't riding out of here into a set-up of some sort, that you didn't suggest to those men that they wait for us around the bend?" Vin's tone was hard, but Chris heard a note in it he didn't like. A note of fear.

 

Chris eased his way from the window, watching still to make sure no one snuck up on them but lowering his gun as he used one arm to balance. The pain in his chest seemed to be getting stronger now, a sign that the battle-worry was easing. "Nothing's going to happen," he said. He intended for it to come out easy, reassuring for Vin. But also an order for Ezra.

 

But his voice seemed to have a mind of its own, the sound low and broken, as if it were riding on a wind. He swallowed and stopped moving, sitting forward. His chest ached like a bastard and he had to lift his hand to it to it. Blood was leaking out again, he could feel it against his palm.

 

"Chris?" Vin and Ezra said at the same time, and he turned to look at them. Ezra's face was cast in shadow, only his green eyes shining. Vin was closer, the afternoon sun casting his skin in gold but bleaching out the color of his eyes.

 

"Nothing's going to happen to you," he said again, looking at Vin. "Ezra won't let it, will you, Ezra." But as the words came out of his mouth, the world tilted. He had the sense that he was falling, but he couldn't stop himself. He heard them call out to him, but their voices seemed to be from far away.

 

His head hit the floor with a thud that he heard but didn't really feel. Then it was dark and all the pain was gone.

 

*&*&*&*&*

 

" . . .despite what you think, I would not do that."

 

The voice was low, a gentle buzz in his head at first, the words slowly forming into images that he had to stare at for a while before they made sense.

 

"Yeah, 'cause it'd be the wrong thing to do?"

 

The voice was familiar, too, though he wasn't used to the anger in it. It was a voice that should be easy and warm, amused. Not hard like this, not bitter.

 

"Because he would never forgive me." This voice he knew, too, the soft honey tones of it making him feel warm.

 

Someone sighed, then there was the squeak of a chair and boots on a wooden floor. The steps were short and fast but careful, as if the walker didn't want to make noise. Spurs jangled though, a light sound that made him think of chimes . . .

 

"I can't deny that if it were in my power, I would steal him from you," the honey-voice said again. Something in the words settled deep in his brain this time though, setting off a warning though he couldn't quite figure out why. "But it is not in my power. As it is not in yours to drive me away."

 

"Ain't that the truth." The words were sharp and low and close, the voice near. The body near. He turned his head toward it, willing his eyes to open, his hand to reach out. But he was so tired. So very tired.

 

"If it's so painful for you, you could always leave," the honey voice suggested.

 

Something warm touched his forehead, a gentle caress. He could smell leather and horse and gun smoke, knew the rough texture of the hand on him. "Never leave him," the person with that hand said, his voice soft now, as easy as the hand touching him. "Not as long as he wants me."

 

"Indeed," the honey voice said, but the tone was dry with an edge of anger. "And he does seem to have that need, for no reason I can - "

 

The voice stopped abruptly as a door opened. The hand on his head jerked away and he felt the person beside him turn, the tension in the room physical. Then another voice, also familiar, also safe, said quietly, "Hey now, just me. He wake up?"

 

Bodies moved, boots walking on the floor, the jangle of spurs again. He felt the flow of air as the one who had been beside him eased away to be replaced by someone else, someone with larger hands, gentle, too, but not intimate. These hands were doing work, pulling at the bedclothes, letting cooler air in against him.

 

It was too much, his mind drifting away, the voices fading to nothing as the blackness came.

 

*&*&*&*&*

 

"You two get on out of here," Nathan said, his voice sharp and tired. It had been a long day for him, what with treating Chris here and the wounded men from the shoot-out who were gathered up at the hotel. Two of them, the leader and 'not leader', had ridden into town ahead of Vin and Ezra, needing assistance for the 'not-leader' who had been injured badly in the dynamite explosions.

 

The leader, a man who identified himself as Harlan Rynes, had been wary of them, knowing who they were, but he was worried enough about his associate to take the chance on coming into town. On asking for help.

 

He had been so worried that he had admitted to Josiah and Buck what they had been doing, trying to capture Vin. He'd been so worried that he'd accepted Josiah's proof, in the form of the paperwork itself, Vin's exoneration.

 

Not that Ezra trusted it. "Yes," he said, rising from the chair. "Perhaps we should go elsewhere, perhaps to get some food?" He looked at Vin, willing him to come along without an argument.

 

Vin stood to one side of Nathan, staring down at Chris. His concern was so clear on his face that Ezra wondered how he and Chris had managed to keep their affections for each other hidden from the town.

 

Nathan looked at Vin, too, and Ezra held his breath. But Nathan's expression softened in sympathy. "He's all right," he said quietly, reaching out to drop a hand on Vin's shoulder. "He needs peace and quiet. You two get out of here, work off some of those battle nerves."

 

Vin drew in a breath but nodded. "Thanks, Nathan," he said, his voice rough. "Be back in a while – you want some grub?"

 

Nathan smiled, squeezing Vin's shoulder before stepping away and toward the bed. "That'd be nice," he said, though he was already setting about checking on Chris.

 

Ezra stood and pulled on his hat, shrugging to settle his coat around him. He would have to have it cleaned soon; blood was hard to get out if left too long. He was relieved to find Vin behind him as he stepped out onto the porch, into the late afternoon sunlight.

 

But then Vin walked past him, heading for the stairs, his steps hard and fast on the wooden deck.

 

"Vin," Ezra called, hurrying to catch up. "Where are we going?"

 

Vin didn't slow, his words tossed over his shoulder. "Don't know where you're going, but I'm going to check on the horses, then over to Watson's to get some more lead."

 

"Least you forget, those men are still in town, and we don't know where the others are. They could be lying in wait - "

 

Vin turned around so fast that Ezra almost ran into him. He managed to catch himself but not before he brushed against him. "I been taking care of myself for a long damned time," Vin hissed, pushing Ezra back. "I'd have managed today if Chris hadn't been wounded."

 

Ezra straightened, brushing at his jacket where Vin's hand had touched it. "Really?" he said, annoyed. "By getting yourself killed or captured? If Chris hadn't been there, they'd have surprised you in the barn."

 

Vin stiffened, his eyes narrowing to slits as he stared at Ezra. "You really were there the whole time, weren't you," he said. "I knew they were there - I was ready for them. The only thing I didn't know was where Chris was and what he was going to do. I take responsibility for him getting shot, Ezra – don't you worry none about that."

 

Ezra shook his head, trying to curb his own rising anger. "Chris got shot because he did the same thing – worried about you. The two of you are more dangerous to each other than to yourselves."

 

Something flashed behind Vin's eyes then, and Ezra knew the idea wasn't new to Vin.

 

But with that awareness came another awareness. Vin would have given himself up, knowing he would be killed, in order to save Chris. Knowing that Ezra had stopped that with his arrival. Part of Ezra was fascinated at the idea, that Vin would be that self-sacrificing. That Vin would love Chris that much. Part of him was sorry that he had arrived when he did – that would have left Chris for him. As long as Chris never knew he'd been there.

 

But a new emotion flickered between those two, something that was alien and strange, something that

didn't seem to shrink away in the light of day but, instead, grew as he stared at Vin, at the cold blue of his eyes and the hard lines of his clenched jaw.

 

It grew so big in his head that it slipped out of his mouth into the space between them, announcing itself in sound and form, making itself real, giving itself substance. Freeing itself from the dark corners of Ezra's dreams and nightmares.

 

"He's not the only one who watches your back. He's not the only one who cares about you."

 

It was almost worth it to see the change in Vin's expression, the widening of his eyes, the slackening of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils as his breath caught.

 

But the truth of it, its reality now, in the broad light of day, twisted in Ezra's belly, made his hands shake and his throat close. He turned away from Vin, stunned by what he had said, what he had done. Stunned by the awareness that everything that had happened at the cabin – the plan, the dynamite, the con, the act of walking into that house and trapping himself with Chris and Vin - had been done not only because of Chris.

 

Not simply for Chris.

 

It took three shots of whiskey before he could breathe.

 

*&*&*&*&*

 

When Chris finally awoke, it was right at dawn. The sky was dark with the barest streaks of light in it, the sun just on the verge of rising. There was lamp on a far table, giving off enough light to allow him after a time to recognize where he was. Nathan's clinic.

 

It also let him take an inventory of those around him. Ezra sat in the big wingback chair, the one that was the most comfortable. His head rested in the corner of the back and side, cushioned, and someone had thrown a blanket over him.

 

Vin sat on the floor beside the bed, his head resting against the side of the mattress itself, his back propped against the wall and his long legs spread out in front of him.

 

The door to the back room, the one that Nathan used as his sleeping room, was closed and Chris suspected that Nathan was asleep.

 

He did a check of his body, knowing that he wouldn't be here if something weren't wrong. It didn't take long – merely one attempt to shift in the bed – to figure out that it was his chest, and for a time, he wondered if he were recovering from the bullet wound he'd taken at the hands of Ella Gaines' men. But that didn't feel right. He remembered too many things that had happened since then, good things and bad things.

 

Those memories reminded him, though, of what had happened – all the things that had happened. The reasons why both Ezra and Vin were here, asleep. The fact that Vin had almost been carted back to Tascosa, dead most like, that he, too, might have been killed.

 

That Ezra had saved them both.

 

He stared out the window for a time, thinking it through. Bits and pieces of the conversation came back to him, words that he'd heard as if in a dream. Words he recognized as Vin's and Ezra's.

 

Anger and pain. Both of them. His fault.

 

He looked down at the head resting against the bed, dark strands of hair curled on the worn and faded comforter. Vin was easy, someone Chris could read, someone who shared Chris' own way of viewing the world. They didn't always agree, but they always understood what the other was thinking and why.

 

Vin was safe and warm, someone Chris couldn't live without, not anymore.

 

But he hesitated, his hand hovering above those soft curls as his eyes sought out Ezra. Ezra was – not comfortable. Not safe. And Chris needed that, too, needed the thrill he got when Ezra pushed back against him, fought him, the two of them competing for control. They rarely agreed, and the route to finding that common ground was rough and dangerous, and it made Chris feel alive.

 

Not that Vin didn't. And that was the problem.

 

He let his hand drop back to the bed, not touching Vin. He looked back out the window, not looking at Ezra.

 

He wanted them both. Needed them both.

 

And he was hurting them both, in a constant, grating way. Making them both adapt to his needs, not their own.

 

Might have been better if that bullet had caught him full on. Might have been better if -

 

"I would not have let him get hurt." The words were soft, so soft that at first, Chris thought he was imagining them. He blinked, letting them repeat in his head. That was when he heard the faint accent, the soft whiskey drawl in the tone. He turned and looked down the bed to the chair where Ezra sat, surprised, but not, to find those green eyes staring back at him.

 

Chris drew a breath, slowly and carefully, glancing to where Vin's head still rested against the bed.

 

"He should sleep for a while," Ezra said, still quiet enough for Chris to have to strain. "Nathan was concerned about him so he encouraged a soporific tea."

 

Chris glanced once more to Vin who hadn't moved. Then he said slowly, as carefully as he could, "And you supplied some incentive?"

 

Ezra's face drew in for a few seconds, wrinkles crinkling at his eyes and mouth as he struggled to make the words make sense. Then his features smoothed and he drew a deep breath. He leaned forward in the chair, opened his mouth as if he would say something, then he thought better of it and stood. He was cautious as he walked over to the bed, easing along the side opposite to where Vin slept. Chris noticed that Ezra was more intent on Vin than he was on Chris – worried about waking him.

 

Chris wasn't sure, though, if it were consideration or wariness. Just as he wouldn't have been sure of the motivations if the situation were reversed, if it were Vin coming to his side while Ezra slept.

 

He closed his eyes, tired again, though this time, he didn't think it was because of the wound.

 

The bed shifted slightly, slowly, as Ezra settled on it. The mattress was firm enough and the wood foundation strong enough, that when Chris forced himself to look, he saw that Vin was still sleeping soundly.

 

Something brushed against Chris' hand and he jerked back to find Ezra looking at him, sitting close on the bed, his hand resting on Chris'. It was an affectionate, personal touch, one that was unsettling. At first. Because it wasn't the way things were with them.

 

But as he thought it, he also remembered the times lately when he had sat and talked to Ezra, taking his time about leaving. Taking his time about going back to Vin.

 

Taking his time to enjoy the conversation and the interests that he shared with Ezra, the ones that weren't about sex.

 

"He is too important to you," Ezra said quietly. "If anything ever happened to him and I was in any way involved, you would always wonder – as he does – if I had something to do with it." He smiled slightly as he went on. "Though I wonder if you would have the same concerns if the situation were reversed."

 

Chris swallowed, his mouth dry, and Ezra leaned forward, picking up a mug that sat on the bedside table. He offered it to Chris, then helped him drink from it when Chris couldn't manage on his own. The water was a relief, though his stomach wasn't as happy as he'd have liked.

 

"You lost quite a bit of blood," Ezra murmured as he held the cup, letting Chris settle. "Nathan had little trouble getting the bullet out, it was just under the skin, but you simply wouldn't stop bleeding."

 

He nodded, closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness washed through him. When it passed, he asked softly, "You think Vin would do that?"

 

Ezra sighed. "It would make my view of things simpler if I could," he said after a time. "But it's not in his nature – no, that's not right."

 

Chris blinked several times, his gaze clearing enough to see Ezra's face and the lines of concentration on them, the lines of confusion. Eventually, Ezra said, "Mr. Tanner has no problem killing people who, by his own definition, deserve it. I suspect that I am on that list. But he would do nothing to hurt you or that would cause you pain, no matter how much he might wish it. The only time that such a thing would happen would be at that time that he must make a choice between different types of pain. If he felt I were a threat to your life, then he would kill me, to protect you and harm you less. But barring a situation of that nature, he would not do anything that would cause you pain."

 

Chris thought about the words, the idea. It was pretty much what he thought of Vin, too, and it had caused him no little guilt in the past year, since this whole thing with Ezra had become known to Vin.

 

"But what he fails to grasp, and I suspect you do as well," Ezra went on, his voice low and even, "is that I am of the same mind. As much as I would appreciate having you to myself, I would not do so at the cost of your happiness." He looked at Chris, his face clearing as he continued, "Or at the cost of my own. For while I do often wish him elsewhere, I have also come to appreciate him for his own sake."

 

The words took a while to come together in Chris' head, the ideas not making sense. Then making too much. The whole time he sorted them out, Ezra held his gaze, not backing away from the admission he had made.

 

"That mean what I think it does?" Chris asked, light-headed again but this time with anger. Jealousy.

 

"I suspect so," Ezra said calmly. "But perhaps not in the same sense that you're assuming. I have made no overture to him in any physical capacity. The two of you have made it quite clear that he is outside the scope of any other physical affections."

 

Chris took a deep breath, trying to gather his control. He wanted to grab Ezra by the throat and throttle him, the very idea of Ezra touching Vin, of Ezra even thinking of Vin that way – but those thoughts were at war with the idea of anyone else touching Ezra, putting their hands on him, the very idea that Ezra would allow such -

 

"Breathe," Ezra said, his voice close, the word a command. "There is no need for this – nothing is going to happen that you don't want. After all, you are the one in control of everything. Of both of us."

 

There was a hint of coldness in his tone now, an anger that Chris knew – but not about this.

 

He did take a long slow breath, forcing his instincts away, forcing his anger down.

 

Ezra nodded at him, once, and held out the cup of water once more. Chris drank, watching Ezra the whole time, thinking about earlier and the comment about Vin needing something to make him sleep.

 

Thinking about his affection for Ezra – and how much he could trust him. About how Ezra had walked into that cabin to save them, putting himself in the line of fire. As he pulled away, sated, Ezra looked down at him. His gaze was cool, and Chris thought he could see Ezra's mind working behind his eyes, the thoughts, the needs, the plans, swirling around back there. He had been in the shack with Vin, with dynamite. Had he made a deal to get Vin out – so that he could take Vin and leave Chris behind? Had Vin been right, that Ezra's intent from the start was to his own advantage? Was he planning even now to drug Chris as he had practically admitted to doing to Vin, to render Chris unconscious or even dead and to take Vin away in the night -

 

"Chris?"

 

He jerked, drawing in air as he turned to find Vin, sleepy-eyed, tousled, but awake and pulling himself up the bed.

 

"It's all right," Vin said, smiling at him even though his eyes were clouded with sleep and he looked dazed. "Ezra ain't hurting us – neither of us. Ain't no reason for you to worry."

 

It hurt like a bitch, but he forced his hand up and out, reaching for Vin. Vin caught his hand, wrapping both of his own around it and leaning down so that his lips brushed Chris' knuckles, and his hair tickled Chris' fingers. His eyes were closed, his head low, as if he were a medieval knight giving fealty.

 

As if he were subjugating himself. But then, that had been an element in their relationship from the start, one that made Chris uncomfortable.

 

One that had driven him to find someone who would challenge him, someone who would resist him. Someone who made him work for what he felt, for what he wanted.

 

As if sensing his thoughts, as he always had, Vin looked up. His eyes were tired but clear, still drooping with sleep but not bright with drunkenness or confusion. "I ain't choosing no one over you – you know that, Ezra knows that – hell, he said it right there. And he ain't doing nothing that would drive you way. Piss you off, sure." Vin grinned, a quick flash of teeth in the shadow of the dawn. "Make you mad enough to do – well, what the two of you do." He tried to grin then, but it wouldn't come.

 

But he tried.

 

Chris tightened his hold on Vin's hand. "No," he said, "you're not – no, I won't let you get hurt - "

 

"Hold on, now," Vin said, shaking his head. "We ain't talking about nothing like that. All we're talking about is why Ezra didn't throw me to them boys. Why he says he won't throw me to the wind. Why we can trust him."

 

'Why we can trust him.' The words echoed in Chris' head, accompanied by the things Ezra had said in the cabin, his own tale of what he had promised to get to the cabin.

 

The things he had said to Vin when Chris wasn't quite awake.

 

The idea that Vin, too, might have an agenda of his own.

 

Chris closed his eyes. He was getting paranoid. The idea of Vin and Ezra together – he shook his head. Neither of them was interested in the other. Not – not sexually. The very idea of the two of them in bed together was fantasy. Vin was straight lines, need and want, in the moment. Sex with him was always spontaneous, no plans, no plots, no games.

 

Ezra was courting and dinner, foreplay and teasing, seduction and competition. It was rough and dark and it took Chris completely out of his head.

 

Made him someone different, someone without the pain.

 

Not that Vin didn't. Vin – Vin . . .

 

"Chris?" Vin's tone was sharp again, as it had been in the cabin. As it was when he was worried.

 

Chris forced his eyes open, holding on tightly to Vin's hand. "Yeah," he said, trying for a smile. "I hear you."

 

"But do you believe him?" Ezra asked, and Chris turned to look at him.

 

Vin was straight lines, need and want, in the moment. Ezra was foreplay and seduction, teasing and competition.

 

The idea of the two of them in bed together, Vin demanding, Ezra teasing, Vin impatient, Ezra seductive -

 

The image of it clouded his thinking, a tangle of long bare limbs and breathy words, pleas and taunts, the two of them pressed against each other, rubbing against each other -

 

"Chris!" Something cold and wet touched his head and he opened his eyes to find Nathan hovering over him. His chest hurt, the wound burning, but it was minor compared to the pounding in his head and in his chest, under the wound. "Calm down, now!"

 

The person standing over him wasn't Ezra or Vin but a tired and rough-looking Nathan, still wearing his night shirt, a course white tunic open at the throat and showing a dark 'v' of skin. "What the hell did they say that got you so wound up – were they mouthing at each other again? I told them that if they didn't stop their sniping . . ." He rambled on, all the while rubbing the cold cloth over Chris' forehead and down his face to his neck. It was uncomfortable, but it worked; the pounding in his head and chest lessened and he could breathe more easily.

 

He looked past Nathan as often as he could, but he didn't see any sign of Vin or Ezra.

 

"I sent them out," Nathan said as he rinsed the cloth in a bowl of water. "Needed to get you calmed down before you had some sort of fit – you ain't got enough blood in you right now for any excitement."

 

Excitement. He felt the tingling in his groin and knew that was exactly what it had been. The image came back to mind of Vin and Ezra together, and his heart beat harder.

 

"Hold on, now," Nathan said, sliding the cloth around Chris' throat. The cool of it worked immediately. "I ain't never letting those two in here again," he muttered, his fingers tightening a little around Chris' throat. They were long and muscular, the fingers of a man who worked with his hands, and Chris wiggled instinctively and swallowed.

 

Nathan shook his head but pulled his hand away, leaving the cloth. "Here," he said, picking up the mug of water. He had refilled it and he held it until Chris had swallowed most of it.

 

When Chris turned his head away, Nathan relented and set the cup aside. "You need to drink as much as you can stand," he said. "Only way to build your blood back up – as I suspect you recall from the last time we did this." His gaze was level on Chris', reminding Chris of the last time they'd done this. When it had been so much worse. "Water, and peace and quiet – and food; I sent those fools off to the restaurant to see if there was anything that would be easy on your stomach."

 

Chris drew a breath, feeling a wave of panic. "Those bounty hunters, the ones who - "

 

"Taken care of," Nathan cut him off. "They rode into town right before Ezra and Vin brought you in. Mary and Josiah set 'em straight. Helped that one of them nearly lost his hand 'cause of Ezra's dynamite. Buck and JD are keeping an eye on 'em, but I don't think they'll cause any more trouble. Mary showed 'em the paper work and explained it. She made sure to mention Judge Travis' name a lot." He smiled, a quick flash of his white teeth. "And we've all been keeping an eye on Vin, though it ain't been too hard. He ain't hardly left your side, him nor Ezra."

 

Nathan was looking at Chris and something in his expression changed as he said the last part. Chris stared up at him, his anxiety taking a different turn. Bad enough he had Vin and Ezra and the complications of dealing with two relationships at the same time. He didn't need somebody else wondering . . .

 

"Seems like those two got some things they need to work out," Nathan said carefully. "Reckon they will, soon as they both know you're all right. Seems strange that after all this time, they're back to not trusting each other overmuch – though from what I heard last night, sounds like Vin ain't right sure how much Ezra was running his mouth and how much he meant."

 

From the way he made the statement, it sounded like Nathan wasn't too sure, either.

 

"He was getting us out of there," Chris said flatly. And as the words left his mouth, he knew they were true.

 

Something inside him eased and he found himself relaxing back into the pillow. He might not like all the reasons, and he shied away from thinking about exactly what those reasons were right now, not wanting to get his heart started up again. But there were reasons, and they didn't all have to do with him.

 

"You need to rest," Nathan said. "I'll wake you when they get back with food. Might be a while, as it's so early." He fussed with the bedclothes, tucking Chris in.

 

"Ezra won't let anything happen to Vin," Chris said, though it was harder to do than it should have been.

 

Nathan nodded. "Yeah, reckon you're right. Vin needs to know."

 

Chris opened his mouth to agree but ended up yawning instead.

 

Nathan chuckled and stood up. "Sleep, Chris. Best thing for you."

 

And Chris did.

 

*&*&*&*&*&

 

When he woke up next, the sun was high in the sky, streaming into the room through the window. It was warm and he realized that he'd been feeling cold. Blood loss, he remembered.

 

"You back with us?" Vin asked, his voice soft. He sat in the wing back chair, his legs crossed at the ankle. He looked tired and scruffier than usual but he smiled at Chris.

 

"Save any breakfast for me?" Chris asked, his throat dry. He looked to the table beside the bed and saw the mug, but before he could reach for it, Vin had risen, crossed the room, and picked it up.

 

"Breakfast? It's getting on to dinner time," Vin teased as he held the mug to Chris' lips. "Mrs. Edna said she'd have some nice soup for you. Ezra's probably over there now, seeing to it." The last came out easy enough, a light change in the quality of his voice. But it wasn't hard or angry or even bitter. It sounded more confused.

 

Chris drank as much water as he could then, when Vin set the mug on the table, Chris pushed himself slowly into a sitting position. It made him dizzy, but he fought it, wanting to be sitting, wanting to be on an even level with Vin.

 

Vin watched him, his forehead crinkled in worry, but he didn't say anything. He did, though, catch Chris' shoulder at one point, steadying him. Chris nodded his thanks and as Vin pulled his hand away, Chris caught it, holding him. "Ezra would not have turned you in," he said slowly, forming each word carefully. "Not for me, but because . . . " He paused, not sure exactly what he wanted to say.

 

Vin nodded, though, his hand turning in Chris'. "I know, I heard."

 

"You were awake?" Chris frowned. "So – you and Ezra - "

 

"Chris." Vin leaned in a little closer, using his other hand to stroke through Chris' hair. "I told you back when this started that I love you – you. I ain't interested in no one else but you. Ezra's yours, I ain't looking to horn in on what you have with him."

 

Chris swallowed, turning slightly into Vin's touch. "But, if I – if it were all right with me, if it were all right with Ezra . . . " He paused, not quite sure how to ask.

 

Vin tilted his head slightly. "It ain't all right with you. You made that pretty clear that day – well, you know when."

 

The day they had had sex in front of Ezra, for Ezra, the price of a deal Vin had made.

 

Chris had been pretty irritated that day – angry even. Mostly at Ezra, for putting Vin in the position of having to do something that Vin didn't want to do. Though he did. To make Ezra understand what love was.

 

But that had been then. Now – now . . . The image drifted through his mind again, of Vin and Ezra together, tan and pale, blue and green, thrusting against each other. Kissing.

 

"Chris?" Vin's grip on his hand tightened, drawing him back to the moment.

 

"That was – well, that was then," Chris said softly. "I was angry."

 

Vin's lips twitched slightly and he let his hand trail down Chris' face. "And you're not angry now?"

 

Chris grinned despite himself. It was hard not to be amused at the idea. "Sure I'm angry – at the idea of those men attacking us in our own home, of Ezra having to lie his way in to save us, of all of us almost dying. Yeah, I'm angry. But . . . Ezra . . ."

 

Vin 's smile faded and he looked out the window. He swallowed and tugged at his hand in an attempt to draw it away. Instinctively, Chris held it tighter, knowing that he wasn't going to like what Vin had to say. Knowing, too, that Vin was hurting.

 

"I ain't picking him over you," he blurted. "That ain't what I meant."

 

Vin swallowed again but after a time, he nodded. "If you want me to - "

 

"No." Chris tugged on Vin's hand, then, when Vin didn't turn to him, he jerked. "Look at me, dammit," he hissed.

 

Vin did, his eyes bright.

 

Chris caught Vin's other hand which had been resting on the bed, pulling Vin in close. "Not me, not what I want. What you want. Ezra says he – he - " What? The word felt strange on his tongue, but he said it anyway. "He cares about you for yourself. Not because of me. It's got to be the same for you or it won't work."

 

Because Chris would never ask that of Vin. Vin was giving enough already. It had to be his choice. Otherwise . . . otherwise it would be another debt he owed Vin, and another thing Vin would come to resent.

 

Otherwise, it would end everything Chris held dear, one way or another.

 

Vin started to look away again, but Chris dropped on hand to reach up, laying the palm of his hand along Vin's rough cheek. "You can say no," he said quietly. "Won't make me angry, won't hurt me. This ain't about me," he repeated, trying to drive the point home.

 

Vin drew a deep breath, and though he turned his face into Chris' hand, a mirror of what Chris had done earlier, he did look down, away from Chris. "What if I say yes?" he asked, his words slow and very quiet.

 

The question was so unexpected that Chris stiffened in surprise.

 

And Vin shied away. "I ain't leaving you – that ain't what I mean at all. Don't worry none about - "

 

"No, no, no," Chris shushed him, letting his thumb come to rest on Vin's lips, bringing them to stillness. "I just - I wasn't expecting that. It's not bad – I'm not angry." Though the little warning rattle of jealousy shook deep in his belly, it was countered by the tinkle of desire in his groin. By the image of the two of them in bed together . . .

 

Vin looked back at him, searching Chris for the truth of his words. Chris met the gaze and held it.

 

"I ain't making no promises," Vin said after a time, turning to kiss the inside of Chris' palm. "I ain't really thought it through. I – well, his words . . . "

 

"Got you thinking?" Chris said, stroking Vin's face slightly before lowering his arm. The wound was burning some, from the strain.

 

Vin's lips twitched again. "Yeah, reckon so. That and – well, sometimes I think about you two and what you get up to." The sun was bright enough that Chris could see the flush of color as it rose high in Vin's cheeks. "I ain't interested in the rough end of it," he said quickly, clearly, and unnecessarily. Chris knew that, knew that that was the hardest part of Vin to understand about any of this, Ezra, particularly. "And I'd never be able to do that to him."

 

Chris knew better than to take it as a derisive comment; Vin wasn't making any statement about what he and Ezra did, or what Ezra wanted. The statement was about himself, not them. "I know, and he knows, too. No one would ask that of you."

 

Vin drew a breath but nodded. He tightened his hold on Chris' hand, almost desperate. Scared, not sure of what was happening to him, to them, what it would mean in the long run. How it could mess things up for all of them.

 

But, Chris thought, how it could also make things better.

 

He tugged at Vin, pulling him closer, close enough to kiss. He brushed their lips together then said, "I love you. That ain't changed, and it won't, no matter what you decide."

 

Vin's lips parted, and then they were kissing, slow and easy, the way it was for them when it wasn't sex. When it was the two of them, content to be together, comfortable with each other. Alone.

 

The sounds of boots on the stairway reminded them, though, that they weren't. Vin pulled away and stood up, catching up the water mug again and walking to the bucket on the counter to refill it. That's where he was when Nathan knocked on his own door before walking in.

 

"Didn't want to startle no one," he said by way of explanation. "Glad to see you're up." He was carrying his medical bag, and Chris assumed he'd been off to check on someone else.

 

Vin walked back to the bedside, putting the mug on the table. His eyes met Chris' and he smiled a little as he said, "If you're back for a spell, I'm gonna go walk around, see how things are."

 

"Things are quiet, far as I could tell," Nathan said, his fingers already resting on Chris' wrist, "but yeah, you go on, burn off some of that restlessness."

 

Vin nodded, touching Nathan on the shoulder as he passed. He picked up his hat and settled it on his had, but as he got to the door, he turned back and looked at Chris who was looking at him. He looked tired again, but he seemed settled. Chris knew he'd have to think on it – Vin was careful that way, careful with his life. More careful with his heart. Intimacy wasn't easy for him. It wasn't easy for Chris, either, and the fact that he had two men sharing his bed was something that still woke him in the dead of night.

 

That fact that they both shared space in his heart was something he couldn't yet think on. Not in the bright light of day.

 

Unlike him, Vin would meet it head on in the daylight.

 

Ezra already had.

 

"You all right there?" Nathan asked, pulling his stethoscope out of his bag. He held the metal end of it in his hand for a few seconds, warming it. It was a gesture Chris appreciated, though it was still cold when Nathan put it to his chest.

 

"Yeah," he said, drawing in a deep breath. "I think I am. Think we all are."

 

Nathan nodded distractedly, and Chris smiled. They all would be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
